Need
by Ruby Rosetta Red
Summary: The second of my 'Is a Four Letter Word' series. The subject this time as the title suggests, is 'need'. Mitchell needs whether he likes it or not. Rated T for language. Please read and review thanks. Final Chapter now up!
1. Chapter 1

**I'm hoping that this will be the first chapter of a new series of 'Is a Four Letter Word'. The last series was about love. The subject this time is 'need'. The characters of John Mitchell and George Sands and those familiar to Being Human belong to Toby Whithouse and associates. I write for pleasure and certainly not for profit. All errors are mine. Set pre show. This is my interpretation of Mitchell and George's first meeting, as inspired by the scene in the show itself. **

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><p><strong>Feel.<strong>

_Need. It's the most annoying, irritating word in any dictionary, in any translation. It is impossible not to need; another person, love, a drug. _

_I defy anyone who can stand up and say with absolute confidence that they don't need anything or anyone._

_Then i will call them a liar._

_We all need._

* * *

><p>He can hear them. He knows what he's going to walk in on and he briefly closes his eyes and sighs. Seth has been in a belligerent mood for a couple of days now, just spoiling for some trouble and excuse to let rip. He pities the poor soul on the receiving end of his irritable mood right now and he hopes he can get there in time before it gets too nasty and too bloody for comfort.<p>

Mitchell can hear them shouting encouragement to each other, the sound of a foot making a connection to the body, the expulsion of air and the groan of pain that accompanies it. He tries not to wince. As he walks through the narrow alley and into the wider yard, the coppery scent of blood assaults his senses and immediately something else with it. His eyes momentarily scorch black with warning; _werewolf._ As he emerges into the yard, they return to normal and he sees Seth and two of his followers surrounding someone who is huddled pathetically on the wet ground, his knees tucked up to his chest trying in vain to protect himself, he's pretty sure it's a he.

"That's enough!" he announces above the cat-calling and the sounds of violence. All three of them pause and Seth turns an incredulous face his way.

"What? But we're having fun!" he exclaims. Mitchell rolls his eyes in response and walks closer to him. He keeps his expression calm; his hands are still tucked in the pockets of his coat. He regards Seth steadily.

"I _said_ that's enough" he repeats and Seth scowls. He may be older than him but he's not the brightest of souls but he always regards him with a modicum of wariness.

"Why?" he demands instead, his voice heavily petulant. He rolls his eyes.

"Because you're making me sick" he snips back and glares at him. Seth sighs and looks at his two friends.

"Leave him" he instructs and then looks back at him and his eyes gleam maliciously.

"Maybe you want him for yourself?" he suggests.

"Whatever…meet me in the Queens Arms in about fifteen minutes" It isn't a request and they don't take it as such.

The werewolf in the meantime has scrambled to his feet and he stares at him. His body is stiff, defensive and he'll attack if he has to. Mitchell regards him. His face is bloody and scraped; he can smell him from here. He can smell his fear, his anger as well as the blood.

He waits until they're out of sight before he looks at him again.

"Are you okay?" he asks him. The other man blinks suspiciously but doesn't answer him immediately. He sighs and takes a couple of steps towards him. He automatically backs away, his arms going up. Mitchell crouches down and picks up the spectacles that are lying crumpled amidst the rubbish bags and he holds them out to him. He seems surprised as he takes them from him and he watches him put them on. He straightens once he does and stares at him.

"I won't let you kill me" he tells him in a voice trembling with bravado and he regards him steadily. He's terrified of him, the stench of fear comes off him in waves but he stands tall all the same.

"I'm not going to hurt you" Mitchell replies. He watches him wipe his face and frown at the blood on his hands.

"This is the third time this has happened" he confesses. He looks at him.

"I just want to be left alone, can't you _fucking_ vampires get that through your thick skulls?" his voice rises angrily and Mitchell doesn't blame him for his rage. Wanting to be left alone and actually being left alone are two separate things to vampires.

"It's the werewolf thing, they sense something…weak… in them and attack, it's nothing personal" he answers.

"I'm going to have to leave my job because there's no way I can explain…_this _to my boss tomorrow without letting on what I am" his eyes fill with angry tears and the vampire feels mildly sorry for him.

"Can't you take a few days off sick instead?"

"I've only been here a week so what do you think?" he snaps back. Mitchell doesn't reply.

"I'm sorry, they're morons" He wants to say that there'll be other jobs but he doesn't think he'll want to hear that right now.

"What's your name?" he asks instead and he watches him blink suspiciously.

"Ge…George…Sands" he responds. Mitchell gives a single nod as he absorbs the name. He looks like a George somehow.

"Well George Sands, I'm John Mitchell. People just call me…Mitchell" he replies. There's a pause as they eye each other; one with barely contained hostile suspicion, the other with mild interest. Mitchell chances taking another step towards him and is somewhat satisfied that he doesn't bolt.

"Will you be okay?" he asks him quietly. George stares at him for a long moment. Initially his nod is hesitant before gathering strength.

"Yeah, I will be" he takes a shaky deep breath. Mitchell regards him; his face is going to be every shade of the rainbow tomorrow.

"Do you want to go somewhere for a drink?" he asks and George frowns and Mitchell backs up a step.

"No pressure, it was just a suggestion" he turns and then pauses. He looks back at him.

"You'll be okay for tonight, Seth is an arsehole but he won't touch you again if I say so"

"I don't need your protection" he retorts, his voice going stiff. Mitchell calmly shrugs.

"Maybe not but if I hadn't shown up when I did, you'd probably be dead right now. The offer is there, I'm usually about if you change your mind sometime. Get some ice on that eye" he points at it and then walks away, disappearing back into the shadows.

George watches him go and once he's alone, his knees give out and he sinks to the ground amidst the rubbish bags and the dirt and he buries his head in his hands.

* * *

><p>Mitchell shows up at the pub as promised. He sees them grouped together at a table. The pub is busy and as he slips and slides through the crowd, he's almost overwhelmed by pounding heart beats, of blood rushing through veins and he can feel need begin to rise inside of him. In the old days, if he wanted a snack then he'd use his charm and entice his victim away. Now he's just tired, he doesn't want to do this anymore, he doesn't want to <em>be <em>this anymore.

Seth watches him approach and he shuffles along to make room.

"Did you kill him then?" he asks and his tone isn't particularly discreet. Mitchell freezes him with a stare and Seth almost goes right into himself at the look.

"Sorry…" he mutters and picks up his pint. Mitchell regards them all.

"No I didn't. The three of you against one man…"

"He's a stinking _dog_!" Seth hisses at him.

"And what are you? What are we?" Mitchell taunts him. Seth frowns and Mitchell can just about read his mind _better than some fucking dog_. Mitchell just rolls his eyes and looks at the other two vampires present.

"He was minding his own business; he's no threat to you or to us so leave him be in future, okay?"

"Why?" It's almost a whine and Mitchell looks back at Seth. He's not the sharpest knife in the drawer but there are times when he really, _really_ wants to put him out of his misery.

"Because I said so that's why" he replies and Seth rolls his eyes.

"You're such a party pooper" he complains

"And you'll do as I say or there'll be consequences" he growls and Seth falls silent, Mitchell hopes for a while.

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><p>Mitchell emerges from the pub a little while later. He turns his head and sees someone cross the road and he realises that it's George from the café. Without questioning why, he follows.<p>

It doesn't take George long to realise that he's being followed and Mitchell has to admire that. There have been times in the past when he's been right on top of a person before they've realised that he's there. He slows when George falters and then stops all together. He doesn't turn around.

"I have no money or anything of value on me. I've had a really, _really _shitty evening and this is really not a good time to have a go" he sighs almost tiredly. He then slowly turns around and he straightens in surprise when he sees Mitchell standing there.

"Did you change your mind? Are you here to finish what _they _started?" he demands. Mitchell just shakes his head.

"No…I just wanted to make sure you got home safely that's all" he replies and George makes a show of widening his eyes.

"Really? So now you're a new breed of vampire are you? One that _cares_?" he drawls.

"You didn't deserve what happened earlier, I'd apologise on their behalf but they're morons and they don't know any better" he responds calmly.

"Why are you doing this? Why can't you just leave me alone?" George flares angrily. Mitchell takes a step back and raises both hands.

"I'm not going to hurt you" he repeats.

"Well excuse me if I don't believe you" Mitchell shrugs.

"It's your choice" he answers. George sighs loudly, tiredly.

"I'm tired, I hurt and I just want to go home" he tells him in a plaintive voice.

"Then let's go, we can talk on the way" George snorts.

"I'm not going anywhere with you" he tells him.

"You need to get some ice on your face" Mitchell replies and George opens his mouth to reply but seems to change his mind because nothing comes out.

"You know what? I'm too tired, I just can't be bothered…if you're going to kill me then I suppose you'd have done it by now unless torture is your thing…." His voice trails off at Mitchell's look of puzzlement and he shakes his head.

"Never mind, you're going to follow me with or without my permission I suppose" he watches the vampire approach him.

* * *

><p>George lives in a small, poky flat that once upon a time had been part of a bigger residence. Mitchell takes in the surroundings. The walls are damp and paper thin and he can smell the mould. It's cold too. He waits as George extracts his keys from his jacket and unlocks the door. That lock is next to useless, one good kick in the right place and anyone could get in. He pauses at the entrance and he waits. George turns and looks blankly at him.<p>

"_What?_" he demands.

"I need to be invited in" he tells him, leaning his shoulder up against the door jamb. Again George blinks, this time in surprise.

"I thought that was a myth?" Mitchell just shakes his head.

"Oh. Well, come in I suppose" he invites and with a half-smile, Mitchell steps over the threshold. George moves around him to close the door behind him. For a moment they stand in the tiny living space. There's a tiny kitchen area to his left and his living room is also his bedroom. Mitchell notices that the place, such as it is, is immaculate. He thinks of his own room. It looks like a bomb has gone off in it but he knows where everything is, in a fashion. In here a person could perform open heart surgery it's that clean.

"Have a seat" George tells him and Mitchell goes to the small kitchen table and lowers himself onto a chair. He watches George carefully. He's moving around cautiously, his arm protectively wrapped around his upper stomach. He frowns.

"What's the matter?" he demands and George looks at him.

"Nothing's the matter" he answers defensively and his eyes widen when Mitchell gets to his feet.

"You're hurt"

"In what manner…your friends _hurt _me earlier tonight" he reminds him.

"They're not my friends" Mitchell mutters and frowns at him.

"They're vampires aren't they?"

"Doesn't mean that I like them, George I mean it, the way you're holding yourself. It's your ribs isn't it?" George freezes.

"We need to get to casualty, get them x rayed" George shakes his head.

"I'll be okay…"

"And a broken rib could puncture a lung and you'd be in even more trouble. Come on. I insist" he holds out a hand. George stares at him suspiciously.

"It'll be like a fucking zoo in there…" he mutters.

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><p>He's right, it is like a zoo. Mix in the correct amount of alcohol and everyone thinks they're a super hero or that they're truly invincible. A punch to the face quickly disproves that theory most of the time. George follows Mitchell to the admitting desk and he watches how he leans across and smiles at the harried looking receptionist.<p>

"Evening Melanie…my friend needs to be checked over, what are the odds of him being seen by someone quickly?" Melanie seems to blink almost owlishly and George watches her. He sees how her gaze flickers from Mitchell to him and they widen marginally with shock.

"What happened to your friend?" she breathes. Mitchell glances at George over his shoulder before turning his attention back to her.

"He was beaten up by a gang of morons and he might have cracked some ribs. Is Doctor Conway on tonight?" he smiles persuasively and George watches the girl blush like a schoolgirl. He can't believe it; doesn't she know what he _is_?

"Its bedlam tonight, you're lucky he'll be seen before midnight" her tone is apologetic and Mitchell sighs.

"It was worth a try, we'll take our chances then. Thanks Mel" he straightens up and George watches the warmth fade from his eyes then. It's a little scary to witness.

"How…how do you know her?" he demands in a loud whisper.

"I know her because I work here" George stops in his tracks and stares at him.

"You…you _what?_" Mitchell faces him calmly.

"I said, I work here. I'm a porter, a janitor, a dogsbody…any manual grunt work, any bodily fluids that need cleaning up, if something or someone needs to be somewhere then it's down to me to do it, to clean it up, to take them where they need to be" he tells him. George stares at him, his eyes growing wide.

"And all that blood…must be like a fast food restaurant for the likes of you" Mitchell refuses to be insulted, instead he shakes his head.

"I don't feed" he tells him.

"A vampire that _doesn't_ drink blood? Give me a break" he sneers. Mitchell rolls his eyes.

"Believe whatever you want to George but I haven't drunk human blood in a while, I have it under control" He's distracted by a nurse walking by. George watches how she stops beside Mitchell and smiles brightly at him.

"What are you doing here?" she asks. She's hugging what looks like a small pile of folders close to her chest and she's positively beaming up at him. George has to wonder whether he has all the females in this hospital under a hypnotic spell. He watches Mitchell smile at her.

"Ah, you know me; I can't keep away from the place. I'm here with my friend" he indicates George and a peevish part of him wants to remind Mitchell that they aren't friends. Not in the proper sense anyway. The brunette looks at him and she winces.

"Ouch…what happened to you?" she murmurs.

"A fight, you should see the other guys…Lauren…I don't suppose you could get him in early could you?" his tone turns almost lethally persuasive. A smile warms up Lauren's big brown eyes.

"It'll cost you…" she flirts.

"Will it now…and what will it cost me exactly?" His smile doesn't even waver. Lauren slowly rolls her eyes.

"Oh I don't know…maybe a drink sometime soon…my shifts are crazy at the moment so I can't say for certain but maybe one night in the future?" she suggests. Mitchell's smile widens appreciatively.

"I'm sure we can work something out, just let me know when you can and we'll take it from there…" Lauren's eyes brighten at the acceptance.

"Great…let me see what I can do about your friend…" she promises and Mitchell watches her bustle off again. Mitchell then turns to look at George.

"She's a good girl is Lauren, she'll get you seen quick as you like" he tells him and George rolls his eyes.

"Are you in possession of a magic wand or something? That's the second woman you've got falling over themselves for you!" he hisses. Mitchell's expression changes to one of confusion.

"It's because you're Irish isn't it? They hear that accent and their knickers miraculously fall around their ankles. Un-fucking-believable!" he mutters and he spins and stomps away. Mitchell sighs and follows him.

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><p>Lauren is as good as her word and George is seen within the hour. He's uncomfortably aware of Mitchell sitting on the chair beside the bed as a variety of nurses and doctors poke and prod at him. The younger nurses seem to fall over themselves for a touch of attention from the vampire, the older ones not so much and he doesn't seem to try to charm those ones. George wonders why. Maybe there are some women who are immune to his seeming unlimited charms. He's sent to x ray and a couple of butterfly stitches are applied to a cut above his left eyebrow. A while later and he leaves with a prescription for some strong painkillers and instructions to take things easy for the next few days.<p>

"You didn't have to stay with me" he tells Mitchell and he looks at him.

"Yeah I did" George stops and regards him critically.

"You really didn't. You didn't have to stop them from beating me up back at the café, you didn't have to come here but you did. Why?" he asks curiously.

"I don't know" He still can quite put his finger on it.

"But I'm a _werewolf_, you're supposed to hate me and vice versa"

"Well you've been doing a good enough impression of that all evening" Mitchell quips and George frowns.

"You know what I mean. Why? What's in it for you?" he demands in a low voice. Mitchell looks away and he pushes his hands in his pockets. After a moment he looks back at him.

"I've been a vampire for almost a century now, on the fringes of what's thought of as normal society. I've watched that society evolve and change but I've never felt a part of it exactly. I want to know what it feels like, to feel…human again" it's the first time that he's voiced what is going on inside of his head and it still feels jumbled and confusing.

"So you took one look at me and thought I'd be a good role model? I'm a fucking _werewolf _for Christ's sake. For one night a month I'm primal, untamed, beastly…"

"But the rest of the time you're not. You're human or at least more human than I ever can be" George frowns at him.

"I could be a raving lunatic for all you know"

"Hello George, John Mitchell, vampire here" he replies and for the first time, a glimmer of a smile crosses George Sands' bruised and battered face.

"Yeah, I see what you mean"

* * *

><p><em>Months later…<em>

"_This_ is what you had in mind?" George exclaims. Mitchell looks up at the windows of the house and he nods. There's something about this house that calls out to him. He's spent a while just staring at it and wondering.

"Yeah" he answers simply. George squints as he follow's Mitchell's lead and looks up at the windows sparkling in the sun light.

"But it's _pink_!" he exclaims. Mitchell looks at him.

"So what? You're a werewolf, I'm a vampire and this is a pink house. The estate agent is desperate to rent it out, no one stays longer than a month. Aren't you even curious to find out _why?_" he nudges him in the vicinity of his ribs and George frowns.

"Not particularly"

"It'll be great, the hospital is within walking distance so it'll save a bundle on petrol costs and it seems like a nice neighbourhood" he glances around at the terraced houses huddled together on the hill, some painted equally pretty colours, like square Easter eggs waiting to be discovered.

"I've just got a really good feeling about this place, that's all" he confides. George sighs in irritation and he turns his head as another car pulls up behind Mitchell's Volvo. They watch the Estate Agent emerge from its interior and give them a professional smile.

"Mr Mitchell? Mr Sands? Ready to look around?" he enquires and the two men exchange a look.

They're friends and now also work colleagues. Mitchell managed to get him an interview at the hospital and now he too was employed as a porter cum janitor cum general dogsbody. Over the intervening months Mitchell has realised that his new friend is off the charts smart but incredibly shy, especially around women. He possesses a sharp, almost hysterical sense of humour but he's loyal. He'd sensed something about him behind that café and he's so glad that he made a nuisance of himself and pursued it. As George reminded him that night, he didn't have to. He's glad that he did. He gave him the strength to finally turn his back on Seth, on Herrick and on that whole lifestyle once and for all. Its hard going, he struggles with it constantly but with George by his side, he honestly feels like he can achieve anything. He's going to really try and embrace being human.

"Yeah we are" Mitchell responds with a smile. They watch the Estate Agent extract a bundle of keys.

He unlocks the door and steps inside. He pauses when he sees both men standing on the doorstep. George looks at Mitchell. He looks back at the agent.

"What are you waiting for? Come inside, I guarantee you'll find this property fulfils all your requirements" The agent informs them almost too enthusiastically. The grin Mitchell flashes at his friend is wide and he steps over the threshold.

George sighs and follows.


	2. Need: Lucy

**First of all, thank you to those who read and reviewed 'Feel', much appreciated. This second chapter is much shorter and it's kind of a letter Mitchell has in his head to Lucy regarding the events of season two and afterwards, stopping just before _that _ending. All errors are my own. Inspired by the same titled song by Mazzy Star. Thoughts, as always, appreciated :)**

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><p><strong>Into Dust.<strong>

You were the beginning of the end. I realise that now.

You intrigued me. From the moment I looked into your brown eyes, listened those first words out of your treacherous mouth, I was already losing everything.

You tied me up in knots, every time I tried to talk to you; it came out stupid, wrong or just plain idiotic. I thought that I possessed some charm, I know it's worked for me in the past, some might say effortlessly but around you I crashed and I burned spectacularly. Around you I tripped over my feet like a teenage boy and it's been a long time since I was one of those. I wanted you to like me, I wanted you to look like you gave a fuck but I found out that you while I thought you did, you were an even better liar.

I wanted just a taste of your attention, I wanted your smile to be directed at me and mean something. There was so much that I wanted but in the end all it got me was pain, tearing, ravaging never ending pain.

Oh and let's not forget the catastrophe of afterwards.

I needed you. I've never needed anyone for such a long time. I remember needing another person, another soul to see the good in me, to see if there was anything decent left in me and she told me over and over that she could see him, she could see the good soul and that she loved both the good soul and the demon equally. I think for the first time I experienced that pure flush of love. Someone believed in _me_, John Mitchell. You never met her but she was a rarity and my God I miss her so much.

I'd hoped that in you I'd find that again, I so wanted to. I wanted that connection, that _knowing_, I just wanted to feel something remotely normal. I thought I'd found that in you. I misjudged you so badly didn't i?

I can't believe how badly I misjudged you.

There were other forces at work here, other influences. You fought against how you felt about me and how you were supposed to feel about me. You hoped that praying in the hospital chapel would help; you thought that God would have the answers. He didn't, not the ones you were hoping for anyway. After you murdered, you obliterated, you still came back to me. What were you hoping for then? For me to fall to my knees and swear undying devotion?

_Do you have any IDEA what you've done to me? What you've started?_

I just…let go. The moment that I discovered your role in the explosion at the funeral parlour, it just ceased to matter. Your version of Humanity didn't care about me, your version of humanity tried to destroy me in the name of God, in religion, in the name of evil. You didn't know me at all, you didn't want to or someone close to you didn't want you to see the shades of grey. That someone close only saw black and white and nothing else mattered to him.

Did you try to see those shades of grey? Maybe you did but by then it was too late, twenty innocent souls too late.

I have their blood on my hands; I have their blood in me. I destroyed twenty lives, twenty more on top of that and all because humanity had kicked me in the teeth for one last time. I remember what I did, I remember the frenzy, absorbing their terror, their adrenaline and feeding from that too. During that time I felt righteous, I felt invincible and I felt _justified_.

I want you to know that with every life that I took, I had your face in my mind. With each life that I annihilated, I pretended that it was you.

But it didn't make me feel better. I even had hard, noisy _animal_ sex with Daisy, anything to get your face out of my head, to get the taste of you out of my mouth. That didn't work either because you were still there, like a fucking malevolent shadow.

Before you, I existed; I had a life such as it was. I shared a pink house with two house mates; we lived our lives, paid our bills, got along with the neighbours. Nobody knew what we were, we weren't hurting anybody. But you decided otherwise, you and your deluded so called man of God. Between you both, you took away everything that mattered to me, my humanity, my pride, my sense of self- worth but most of all you took away Annie.

What was it about you exactly? I still don't know for sure. I told myself that you came along at a vulnerable part of my life. At my angriest, I told myself that it had to be that because otherwise I would never have looked at you once never mind twice. At my weakest, I remember sleeping with you, I remember the chemistry and you can never, ever deny that we didn't have any chemistry between the sheets because we did. That's when it hurts the most because afterwards I thought that maybe we had a chance, a shot at a future when in reality you were plotting my downfall, my murder. How could I have been so…_wrong _about you Lucy? That's when the pain argues with the indignity of it and the pain always wins.

I stood outside of the chapel and I listened to the chaplain berate me about you. I listened to him scream at me to leave you alone. He doesn't know what you did to me; he has no idea of what you reduced me to. He wants to save me or so he says. Doesn't he know that I'm way beyond _any_ kind of redemption?

I am ashes.

They caught up to me. Months of paranoia, of guilt and self- hatred have finally caught up with me. I can see no way out of it. I wanted redemption, maybe even a touch of forgiveness from those who truly matter to me but most of all I've wanted peace. I'm tired of this existence, of this excuse of a life.

There is talk of love, of people loving me but it feels like too little far too late. Maybe if I'd been aware of it earlier, before you, maybe the circumstances would've been different. Maybe I would never have done what I did. I don't know. You told me once, it's my world, it's in every cell and I just can't change. Maybe you were right all along.

I look into George's tear streaked eyes. He doesn't want to do this but I see the resignation on his face.

I need him to save me.


	3. Need: Blood

**Thank you to those of you who left reviews for the previous chapter, really appreciated as usual. This chapter deals with Mitchell's hunger and need for blood. It includes a flashback in this chapter and a quote from the season three, episode 'Lia'. Thanks to the website for the Being Human episode transcriptions (ie Sally's surname) All errors are my own. Love to hear your thoughts, reviews are loved and appreciated! :)**

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><p><strong>Blood: Compulsion.<strong>

_I can hear it in your veins and you have no idea of how intoxicating it sounds. Your heartbeat, your arteries, your emotions they pump it along, invigorate it, season it just for me. It's just for my pleasure and believe me, it's a pleasure._

I remember that moment when I came to. France, June 1917. I was twenty three years old, a month away from turning twenty four. My life as a mortal man was over, my hell as a monster was about to begin.

It seemed like the right thing to do, to save the lives of my men I had to sacrifice myself. The promise of eternal life, of never growing old with the whole world laid out in front of me like a jewelled blanket. I mean, who could resist that? I remember how it didn't really hurt as he bit into me. I remember my vision clouding over as he drained me, of how my heartbeat slowed, slowed and then eventually halted at the point of death. It didn't last for long and then I was coming to, lying on a pile of bodies like a discarded piece of rubbish.

There was no elation. Instead there was a frozen moment fear followed briefly by dread and then everything began to rush in, like a tidal wave, filling my senses, overwhelming and terrifying. I ran, panic stricken, God help me, I ran.

Herrick didn't tell me about the hunger, about the constant gnawing craving for blood, for the taste of and the consumption of fresh human blood. It never ends. It's constant, it's always on your mind and it never ever stops. I managed to return to my regiment, I wanted to get lost in the routine of war and prayed that a bullet or a shell would blow me into oblivion.

It was confusing, terrifying how all of a sudden I would observe my colleagues. I could hear their blood rushing through their veins, their hearts thudding in their chests. It haunted my every waking and sleeping moment. To me they were the most fascinating subjects on the planet. For the blood, it enchanted me.

I'll tell you who my first kill was; he was my second in command Arthur. Desperation and aggravating hunger made me take risks. The guilt at what I was going to do to him made me kind. An overdose of morphine, stealthily acquired over a few desperate days added to his tea. He didn't even question why I, his superior would bring _him_ a cup of tea. I sat and watched the tea poison him and tears poured down my cheeks as I drained him. Momentarily my hunger was quenched. The morphine which killed him made me drowsy; it slowed my reflexes to dull stupidity. I remember my stomach hurting afterwards and then a hammering on the door startled me into action. I dived through the small office window and ran. I ran for my pathetic life.

And so I became William Herrick's right hand man. Oh it took time, over the course of decades I moved quietly, steadfastly through the ranks. I think Seth was jealous at the attention I was receiving, not that I particularly cared.

As time passed, I became all about the blood. I didn't care how I got it. I used all the weapons in my arsenal but Herrick seemed to think that my face was the key; women couldn't resist me apparently and the moment I opened my mouth and they heard my accent, well I'm sure you can imagine the rest.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Sheffield, Christmas Eve, 1960.<strong>_

"_What's your name love?" Her broad northern accent grates on my ears. I lean up against the bar and look into her eyes. She's reasonably pretty but I'm fairly certain that that blonde hair came out of a bottle and it's brutally held in place by at least half a can of hairspray. The acrid scent of it catches the back of my throat. I lift my pint to drain the last foamy dregs and to also wash the taste of it away._

"_John Mitchell" I reply. I see how her eyes light up at my accent._

"_You're a long way from home John Mitchell" she tells me. She has no idea. I smile at her._

"_Buy you a drink?" I offer and a slow smile crosses her face._

"_Go on then, gin and tonic" she's still watching me as I turn slightly and attract the barman's attention._

_I coax her to a booth away from the bar. I don't want to attract attention, nor do I want my face to be a trigger in someone's memory. _

"_You didn't tell me your name beautiful" I flirt and she smiles at me, her eyes literally dazzling._

"_Didn't I? It's Sally…Sally Fenzer" I smile into her eyes; she smiles back and feels like the only one in the room. _

"_Pleased to make your acquaintance Miss Sally Fenzer…it is Miss, isn't it?" I make my voice sound hesitant and she just laps it up._

"_Of course it is, I'm only twenty!" she slaps my shoulder playfully and I roll my eyes in mock relief._

"_Well thank the Lord for that, I had a vision of a Mr Fenzer bursting in here and demanding to defend your honour" I tease and she giggles._

_We leave just before closing time out into the chilly December dark. One gin and tonic has turned into several large ones. She's let her guard down; the alcohol has loosened her tongue somewhat. I'm relieved to find out that she is renting a flat not all that far away. We won't be disturbed, she promises me. This pleases me but not for the reason she's thinking._

_She links my arm as we walk along deserted streets. Presently we come to where she lives. She's sure to tell me that her flatmate has gone home for Christmas. Even better I decide. I look up at the sky. Snow has been forecast but the sky is stubbornly clear. Pollution hides the stars from view. I wait as she fumbles with the lock. She's drunk as a skunk, giggly and sloppy. I sigh, roll my eyes and take her keys from her. I have the door unlocked and opened in an instant. I smile thinly at her as I return her keys and take a step back to let her go in first. I pause on the doorstep and wait. I count down in my head; 5, 4, 3, 2…. On cue she turns and looks at me._

"_Aren't you coming in then? It's bloody freezing out there, come in, come in" I smile and step over the threshold. I turn and poke my head out of the door and take one last look up and down the deserted street and then I close the door behind me and follow her up the stairs._

_She throws herself at me and I'm almost knocked out by the gin and tonic fumes. I'm so hungry tonight that I don't want to hold back and she doesn't seem to be the shy type._

_She's languid as I reach behind her and find the tiny little zip of her navy blue dress. I slide it down and she giggles and nuzzles against my neck. I push the straps off her shoulders and it puddles around her ankles. She's wearing a white girdle, suspenders and stockings. I inhale the scent of her skin. She's all pink and white with cute dimples in her cheeks that flash at me each time she smiles and I have to admit that she has a very sweet smile. Her skin is soft to the touch and sweetly scented. She's curvy in all the right places, generous voluptuous breasts, an hour glass figure made famous by Marilyn Monroe. She's a knockout but future children and drudgery will surely turn it all into a distant fond memory._

_Clothes are discarded and scattered around the floor. She finds something half decent on the radio and she turns it up loud. The smile on her face as she does this is positively mischievous and I can't help but smile in response. I start to feel the first genuine feelings of arousal that have nothing to do with the blood. I capture her hand and draw her into my arms. We're both half naked and pretty bombed but we do a half-hearted sway to the Christmas tune that's belting out across the airwaves. She laughs and as she does, she tosses her head back giving me the perfect view of her clean white elegant neck. I feel my eyes begin their change as I imagine the blood coursing through those veins. Anticipation and want almost overtake me there and then. I grapple with control and by the time she looks at me again, I've regained it. I smile at her and twirl her beneath my arm and back again before we both tumble onto her bed. _

_She's not a virgin; she's quick to reassure me of that which is refreshing in this day and age. She reveals her body to me slowly, teasingly but I want her to hurry up. I want her; I want to be inside of her. Now._

_Her eyes widen as I sit up and I pull her down on top of me. The rest of her underwear is gone and she's very eager to help me out of mine. I'm only too happy to oblige._

_It's all a blur after that. The radio is loud and I hope it's loud enough to drown out her screams. She fights; I think I hit her with something, possibly an ashtray. There's blood in her hair. Her body goes limp. I hold her close and feel her pulse race initially which sends adrenaline shooting through her bloodstream. My arm tightens around her waist and she weakly tries to struggle, they all do, it's the survival instinct kicking in but she quickly realises that it's useless. Her heartbeat judders and hiccups and then eventually slows. Her blood spurts hotly down my throat and my eyes close in ecstasy as I swallow and feed. I gorge and the taste of it is like nothing on this earth. It's better than anything, even sex. That's my release. I let go of her and she slumps sideways off the bed and lands in an ungainly heap on the bedside rug. I barely look at her. My head is full, I feel close to swooning. I'm utterly sated and my eyes slide closed._

_I come to a little while later and I swallow against the guilt that rises when I see Sally lying on the bedside rug, her pretty blue eyes staring sightlessly up at the ceiling. Her throat is ripped open and blood is congealing in a stream across her chest and over her breasts. The side of her head looks like it's been caved in; thick drying blood is encrusted in all that false blondeness. I cringe against the horror that wells._

_I wrap her in a sheet and lift her onto her bed. I wash and dress and spent a little time cleaning up after me. I leave the house as dawn is breaking and the sounds of bells beginning to chime in the Christmas season. I slip away like a shadow. Nobody sees me, no one remembers me, it's like I'm a ghost._

* * *

><p>"I'm an animal. I don't deserve mercy or forgiveness. I'm a murderer. I couldn't help myself; I loved it, the sensation, the power. I was dead but I never felt so alive. I wasn't human anymore. I lost my conscience. I was free and that's what I was addicted to. I hacked my way through the world. I left a trail of blood a thousand miles long and I loved it. I'm a disease, I'm a plague"<p>

Sorrow feels inadequate. Remorse isn't enough. I feel both in crushing amounts. For close to a century I've rampaged, pillaged and destroyed and in all truth I enjoyed every single moment and for one reason and one only, for the blood. Like an addict I've tried to kick it. I've gone through withdrawal more times than you've had hot dinners. I go into it for what feels like the best reasons at the time but it never lasts, it never sticks.

I remember too clearly the taste, what it does to me, what it turns me into. It makes me weak.

It turns me into the stuff of nightmares.


	4. Need: Annie

**The final chapter of the subject of need. This is kind of a two way conversation between Mitchell and Annie. It's angsty and sad given what happens in the show. All errors are my own, love to hear your thoughts. Thanks :)**

* * *

><p><strong>Fade Into You<strong>.

_Mitchell:_

It took me some time to recognise the stars in your eyes for what they were. At first I thought that it was gratitude, thankfulness even but it became a constant presence. You were bright and unrelenting, a shining light to my darkness.

You're pure and you need to stay as such. You don't need me to sully you.

Why couldn't I tell you? I tried but you didn't want to hear it, you put blinkers on and made yourself blind to my despicability. I should've just blurted it all out to you right there and then. The words were in my mouth, on my tongue ready to be spilled but one kiss from you and they turned to dust. I should've told you the truth, and then you would've hated me; you would have been disgusted with me. Having you hate me would've been easier than what actually happened. You loved me. You didn't stop. It made everything that much harder.

Your love was more than I deserved. Your devotion battered me. Your quest for justice terrified me. Didn't you at least wonder why we had to leave the pink house, _your_ house in such a hurry? Why didn't you ask me? I was different, I was cold, I was impertinent, and didn't you even wonder why?

Why did you have to wait until it was far far too late to confront me?

* * *

><p><em>Annie:<em>

_For nearly a hundred years I've been a slave to hunger, but with you, you've given me a reason to take control back over my life. You give me a reason to start again_

This was as close to a genuine declaration of love that you got or maybe that's what my starry eyed heart decided to believe anyway. You careered between needing me and pushing me away, one moment you wanted me and the next you didn't, it just about gave me whiplash. I should've realised the reason behind it, the turmoil that you were going through. I believe and I will continue to believe that the feelings that you had for me were genuine, that you thought that I was indeed the love of your life but how do I know that they weren't just words spoken in the stress of a moment? You lived a long, eventful life Mitchell, how am I supposed to believe that I was the love of your life when I know you weren't exactly an angel. Women adored you and you adored them right back. How many did you declare your love to? Was it genuine or just a phrase to you, a persuasive look, a hint, a touch or are they just meaningless words spouted to make us feel wanted or special? I want to believe you meant it.

I bear witness to your end.

I need you. You can't leave me. Oh God Mitchell you can't leave me. This can't be over.

I take a step towards you, I want to catch you, I need to save you but I can't, you're gone. You're in the next world and I want to follow. I feel George grab my wrist and I look at him. I want to hate him and for the briefest of moments I do. Then it passes just as quickly and to me he's just George again.

The first time that I saw you was back at the house in Bristol. You were all smiles, stepping over the threshold with George trailing reluctantly behind. Your smile and your enthusiasm drew me towards you and I had no idea why. I was still so full of Owen, he was all that I could think about and we all remember how that turned out don't we? I had intended on getting rid of you like the others but you were tenacious, you didn't scare easily and I quickly found out why. You could see me and you weren't afraid of what you could see.

You became my protector. John Mitchell, my knight in shining armour. Only your armour consisted of not so shiny tight jeans, worn boots and a battered leather jacket. You made me feel safe somehow; you helped me to believe in myself, you were my Champion, defending my honour against demons and dragons, real and imagined.

I think I've always loved you, in fact I know I have. It just took me a trip to Purgatory to realise it. You promised you'd get me back from that place and you did. Seeing you waiting for me at the end of that corridor, that's when I knew for sure that I loved you. I wonder what she made you do, what bargains you had to strike to get me out. Lia said that my arrival was a mistake, an error but I noticed your silences and I wondered at that.

* * *

><p><em>Mitchell:<em>

I fall to my knees and I beg him to please, to _please_ make it all stop. I look up into his face and I see the conflict; the horror, the sympathy and oh God, the _pity_. They are all there and I can read them easily. I'm tired. There is nothing left and there's no peace, either in sleep or otherwise. Their faces taunt me; their promises are the punishments that I must face. I don't know where I will go but it has to be better than this place.

I see you standing there watching. As George drags me to my feet, I see how you look at me. I see your love shine from you and it makes me weaken. I wanted to stay for you and be the man that you want me to be but over time I've realised that it just wasn't possible, I can't stay strong. I am weak and one day I will fail you again and again and again. I don't want that, I don't want to see you become disappointed and bitter because of me. You told me that you were strong and that there were times when you wanted to tear the house down with your teeth. I want you to be that girl Annie, be that strong, beautiful girl.

For me, in my memory.

* * *

><p><em>Annie:<em>

You are nothing but ashes. We look down and it's strange to see your clothes just lying there when just seconds before you'd been a live, solid human being. I look at George and at Nina and imagine that they're thinking the same. I feel George take my hand again and just squeeze it. The grief will come later, as will the pain and the self-recrimination. For now, we have to take comfort in that this was what you wanted. Where ever you are right now, you're not _here_ anymore.

As a trio we turn around and face the other people in the room.

"I think you've got a fight on your hands" George tells them.

And in your memory, they will have.

**~FIN~**


End file.
